Page:Thirty poems (IA thirtypoems00bryarich).pdf/201

This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
THE LITTLE PEOPLE OF THE SNOW.
195
Yet pale and shadowless; the sturdy oakStood, with its huge gnarled roots of seeming strength,Fast anchored in the glistening bank; light spraysOf myrtle, roses in their bud and bloom,Drooped by the winding walks; yet all seemed wroughtOf stainless alabaster; up the treesRan the lithe jessamine, with stalk and leafColorless as her flowers. "Go softly on,"Said the snow maiden; "touch not, with thy hand,The frail creation round thee, and bewareTo sweep it with thy skirts. Now look above.How sumptuously these bowers are lighted upWith shifting gleams that softly come and go.These are the northern lights, such as thou seestIn the midwinter nights, cold, wandering flames,
This article is issued from Wikisource. The text is available under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 unless otherwise noted. Additional terms may apply for the media files.